


His Dragon

by XDragonessX



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XDragonessX/pseuds/XDragonessX
Summary: My OC × Canon storyline.Snotlout discovers an intruiging new dragon species, and saves it from a life-threatening injury. But this dragon has a secret. Will Snotlout be able to keep her hidden from the other riders?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This work is old, but the writing gets progressively better as you read on I've found - shows I've improved at least :) The story was not getting as much attention as I would have liked on Wattpad, so I've decided to share it here. Please enjoy <3

The sun peered meekly down onto the rocks and water below, an icy northern breeze sweeping the waves up onto the shingle. Boats sat moored in barnacle-coated docks, heavy-set men bustling about hard at work for the mornings fishing. Smaller boats were already out on the water with their nets cast, bobbing merrily on the fetch. 

Travelling from the shore up the cliff face nestled a small village, sandwiched into the only decent bed of ground on the whole island. To the north east was a sprawling carpet of pine forest, to the south west a wall of rock. To the north west was the villages greatest view - a vast stretch of ocean, with various sea stacks dotted about it's exterior. Two great pillars of carved stone loomed over the entrance passage of visitors or traders. Totems of the great founders of that tribe who inhabited the hidden gem amongst the archipelago. 

To most visitors, the island would seem normal. Huts lined along dirt trodden paths, children running wild amongst market stalls, sellers screaming out their goods in hope of attracting a customer. The blacksmiths forge was the hottest place in town for obtaining any utensils or weapons. There was grand parts also, the village did not appear completely humble. A great pathway of steps led up to a huge pair of double doors embossed with intricate carvings, leading into a cliff face - the Great Hall. There was also an impressive stone arena constructed on a tedious area of rock. Stands encircled the ring, the great chieftains throne high and mighty above all. Again, even with it's oddities, it still appeared like a normal village right?

*cue intense roaring*

But did I mention the dragons? 

*******

"You come back here you slime-eating, yak-tipping pieces of crap!" A girl screamed from the arena, pelting at full speed inbetween her fellow comrades with a half blade axe raised to swing. The perpetrators - a male and female twin to be exact - shrieked with notes of joy and terror as she sheildmaiden threw the broken axe and stopped them in their tracks, the cold metal glinting inches from their noses, blade gouged deep into the stone wall. They turned slowly and fearfully towards a very angry Astrid, shuddering with every breath, red to the ears and looking as though she was about to explode.

"A-Astrid, calm down, maybe they actually didn't mean it," a short, stocky man by the name of Snotlout interjected into the scuffle. He had bright icy blue eyes that stared warily at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed whirlwind of death who turned threateningly towards him, seething with resentment. Snotlout backed up a pace. He was a man, well teen, who enjoyed watching pain (although truthfully he could be rather cowardly at times). He had found it amusing when Astrid had discovered her mutilated, beloved axe and watched his usual partners in crime Ruffnut and Tuffnut get hounded by her. But now he was actually beginning to fear for their lives.

Without warning, she withdrew a pocket knife and lobbed it in his direction. Snotlout flung his body out of its path, the teeth of the blade grazing his shoulder. Now frightened for his own safety, he turned and fled to his dragon, Hookfang. He was a red/orange and black patterned monstrous nightmare; big, temperamental and darn right nasty when the occasion called for it. But for once, he cooperated with his rider and took off into the air away from the evil spectacle, leaving the twins to suffer their punishment. 

The pair departed over the fishing boats and headed off to find somewhere to hideout until Astrid cooled down. As they passed the last of the sea stacks, Snotlout spotted Hiccup, the main group leader and his dragon Toothless - an outwardly appearing fierce night fury (but most of the time he was like an overgrown cat) - heading towards the arena. Hopefully he would be able to sort Astrid out. He winced as he still heard the twins distant screams across the water.

The duo travelled for some time, passing various islands that they knew of very well - particularly Changewing Island which they didn't dare land on. Time wore on and Snotlouts buttocks began to get saddle sore, so he finally settled for what he believed was a new island about half an hours fly away from Berk.

It was rather picturesque, not overly large but certainly big enough to get lost on. It was mostly trees perched on a raised cliff. Around the girth of the island, was a thin sliver of sand meeting the waves. A rocky outcrop reared up out of the blanket of trees, a brief stretch of grass chased up the mountainside before it melted to just stone. There were a few patches of green that were clearings amongst the trees, but the largest one appeared in an almost figure of eight shape next to the cliff. In the first 'portion' of the clearing was a waterfall and lake fed by freshwater falling from from the mountain, with a stream snaking off into the trees to feed the water to the ocean. In the second clearing it seemed mostly bare - for a moment at least. Snotlouts squinted, and could make out what seemed like some form of camp. And a large orange blob. Curious, he steered Hookfang towards the trees to go in for a closer look.

They landed, what could only be regarded as quietly for a monstrous nightmare, in the dense trees beyond the clearing. Snotlout padded as lightly as his bulk would allow till he reached the edge of the trees. His eyes widened in somewhat awe and excitement. There, laying curled up and fast asleep in the clearing was a dragon. And it was nothing that he recognised. 

It was of a brilliant orange like the sunset. It was big - not as big as Hookfang but still considerably large. It had broad wings that were folded neatly to it's back, ridged scales following the spine to it's tail, capped with two big fins (somewhat similar to Toothless') and smaller fins just above them. Two great white spines, as long as a man's forearm, lay relaxed against the tail. Snotlout didn't want to know how they worked. Its paws were tucked under itself as it slept, each of the five digits having a single curved claw on their ends. He finally settled his eyes on it's heavy-set head resembling a nightmares somewhat - but it's muzzle appeared broader and it's eyes were different, set either side of its head unlike a monstrous. It had deeply slitted nostril cavities that moved subtly as it's possessor breathed. The rest of its features included a curved horn on his nose and two straight horns protruding from the back of its head.

Snotlout felt his stomach tingle with excitement. A new dragon! Oh how he could rub this in Fishlegs' face. He glanced over the other attributes to the clearing, which only included a small shelter constructed of twig and leaf, and a burnt out campfire. A deep scorch mark was also visible from under the dragons belly. Snotlout took a mental note to keep an eye out for any strangers. But in his head he could only figure the dragon had killed any inhabitants - this worried him a little but he steeled his nerves.

Suddenly, the dragon stirred, growling wearily. It blinked open triangularly-shaped amber eyes with a cat-like pupil, heaving itself up onto it's bulk. It stretched itself out in a downward dog pose, and then back up to flex out it's back legs and tail. The beast yawned, flashing Snotlout a forked tongue and a mouth lined with sharp teeth.

The viking shrunk back a little behind some low shrubbery, and watched the dragon stalk towards a large boulder resting next to the leaf shelter. With a grunt, it placed it's front paws onto the stone and heaved, rolling the rock right over. Snotlout couldn't see fully, but it appeared to snuffle around a hole underneath the stone. It withdrew and snorted irritably, leaving the stone overturned and prowling over to the gushing waterfall.

It trotted behind a jut-out in the rock - and disappeared. Snotlout had padded silently behind and watched the dragon vanish. He held his breath, hoping it hadn't gone for good. And he didn't think there had been a way around there? But then to his relief, it reappeared and sniffed at the rippling water in the pool of the waterfall - before backing up a few paces and charging towards the water. It leapt with a playful roar and a splash into the pool, creating a huge wave that crashed up onto the grass surrounding the water. 

Snotlout held his breath as it's great scaly body plunged beneath the water, waiting for the animal to resurface.

But it didn't.

For a moment at least.

A body began to float up from the surface, but it was smaller. A lot smaller. And a different colour? When the body broke he surface, Snotlouts eyes went wide with shock, mouth agape. 

There where the dragon should have been, was a girl.


	2. Chapter 2

Snotlout felt himself reeling, thankfully to be caught by Hookfang and keep their cover secret. He shook his head wildly and looked out to the pool again just to make sure he wasn't imagining it. How was that even possible! The girl was still there, paddling around in the water. Snotlout, although still thoroughly irked, felt himself flush when he registered the fact that the woman was naked. But, no matter how much decency he had (not much considering he's a Jorgenson) he couldn't take his eyes off of her. 

She seemed around his age, 17 or 18 give or take. Her build outwardly appeared slim and petite, but he could tell she was wiry and powerful by observing the (for a woman) impressive bar of muscle running down her torso. Her face was too far away to pick out any distinct features other than her eyes looked blue with possibly freckles. She also had incredibly long brown hair that sprawled out behind her as she swam. A necklace of some sort was also hung around her neck - one of the likes he had never seen before. It seemed to be made of metal, like steel or iron and had a flat sphere pendant.

Suddenly the girl froze in the water, her eyes glowing topaz - dragon eyes! She moved slowly to face the water and with a flash threw herself into it's depths, an orange dragon tail being the last of what Snotlout saw before she disappeared. Would she turn back into a dragon? 

But she quickly resurfaced, still human - somewhat at least. Her eyes resembled her scaly form, and she had long claws instead of finger digits and nails. And Snotlout guessed she had a dragon tail, but he couldn't see it at that point. The girl had dove after a perch which now sat trapped in her hands. She began to tear bits off flesh off of the perch in her jaws, it's beautiful scales fluttering down to the water. Snotlout also noticed that the girls canines were more pointed.

The remnants of the fish were chucked up onto the banks as the girl heaved herself up onto a small rocky ledge that stuck out into the water. Yep, she still had a tail. The girl grabbed her hair and flipped it over her back, the tail suddenly glowing and vanishing from existance. Now she looked like a normal girl again. She stroked her hand over the necklace and at a start, three small bottles materialised in her hand. 

'That necklace must be enchanted or something,' Snotlout thought as the bottles turned out to be some sort of soap to wash with. He watched her for a while (admittedly at one point having to cross his legs) until the girl finally washed herself off and got out of the pool. With another eerie glow, her body shifted and contorted till she was a full sized dragon again. The dragon then shook vigorously like a dog, and made it's maw glow orange. A jet of flame streaked from it's jaws down to the water, but it then spun to face the fire onto it's own flank - a very nifty drying technique.

Soon, the dragon was done. But it shifted back to a human again! The girl then swiped her hand over the necklace and at an instance, clothing began to swirl around onto her body, till she was standing fully covered. Her tunic was interesting, somewhat resembling astrids. Very battered shoulder plates were fixed to a 'criss-cross' style of brown leather corset. Her arms were bare, but showed off very muscly biceps. Her skirt was a similar style to Astrids, but instead of spikey studs she had small metal triangles along the length of each leather strip. This was also a rich chocolate brown. Her leggings were a lighter tan colour that were tucked tidily into her furred but short leather boots. One thing that surprised Snotlout was that she seemed to have no weapons. But then, why would you need one when you could turn into a huge, fierce killing-machine at will? Or she kept those also in the mystery necklace. Who knew?

The dragon reappeared again and started back off towards the camp, Snotlout following excitedly after her.

She wandered down towards the leaf shelter, but suddenly paused, going rigid and alert. Snotlout followed her gaze towards a young yellow typhoomerang, snuffling around in the hole under the boulder she had previously moved. A few half eaten fish lay on the grass.

'So that's what was in there,' Snotlout thought.

The dragon girl snarled, raising her wings and raising the spined tail high to shoot. She paced threateningly towards the juvenile, pupils going thin with rage. 

The typhoomerang raised its head and chirped, suddenly slitting it's eyes and hissing in retaliation. It may have been young, but it was still at least as big as a yak and had very sharp wings like a knife blade - not something you would want to get scratched by.

The dragon girl charged with a guttural wail, thundering towards the typhoomerang that had froze, unsure whether to attack it's quarry or try to flee. A split-second before the orange dragon was upon it, the typhoomerang made the choice to flee, but before it could take off a pair of jaws snapped around it's body like a vice, teeth plunging straight through the fragile scales of the young dragon. It screeched in pain, but was quickly drowned out as the dragon girl swung the juvenile around in it's mouth like a rag doll, shaking blood over the grass. Snotlout grimaced, almost wanting to remove his eyes from the ugly crime committed before him. 

The dragon girl threw the typhoomerang to the ground where it lay limp and cawing weakly. It had several punctures in it's body from the jaws of its opponent that bled sufficiently. It would be lucky if none of its internals had not been damaged. The poor juvenile also had vicious tears in it's wing membrane - if it flew it would be a miracle. 

The big dragon loomed over the whelpling not longer hissing and angry, but it's maw was closed taut in a grim line, triangular eyes almost looking as though they were frowning crossly at it. The juvenile somehow found the energy to stand and crawled away into the trees - not far from where Snolout and Hookfang hid. They watched it cautiously as it limped away, the demi-dragon (Snotlout had thought of it and yes he was proud) glaring as it vanished.

The viking breathed a sigh of relief as the whelpling disappeared and the demi turned back to it's pilfered fish. He debated wether to retreat and fetch the other riders. This dragon was clearly not to be messed with, and even with Hookfang it would would be tough to beat, let alone tame. But, Snotlout thought, he was a Jorgenson. He couldn't just give up on this chance to put him on a pedestal. That would be against his nature wouldn't it? 

With a frown of determination, he turned to his nightmare. "Alright Hookfang, you ready to kick some ass?" The nightmare shuffled uncertainly. Even he thought this was a bad idea. Snotlout rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Hookfang really!?" He exclaimed in a harsh whisper. 

Suddenly the sound of a tree creaking forced the viking silent. He pivoted to see off in the trees a great ash tip it's crown to the forest floor, groaning as the timber snapped under the weight. Snotlouts eyes looked anxiously through the wood to find the cause. His blue orbs caught a shimmer of yellow. And then again. He shuddered when he saw what the true form was.

An adult typhoomerang with an attractive gradient of red and yellow scales was making it's way through the timber, it's scythe-like wings cutting the trunks like yak butter. It held a fierce expression of its snout, and twas then Snotlout realised with a panicked breath that this dragon was the injured whelps mother - and it was out for vengeance.

Snotlout and Hookfang descended into the bushes as the dragon passed, approaching the demi from behind. The dragon seemed to be mulling over the half eaten fish, unaware that the eel-eater was even approaching despite the noise of its arrival.

The typhoomerang snarled with venom in the tone. Snotlout watched as the demi whipped round and hissed in retaliation at the broad wing, even though it towered over her.

The dragons began to circle each other, hissing and spitting in rage. The orange dragon was the first to break the standoff, stopping to snort and paw the ground in anticipation before throwing herself up at her opponents face. There was a cacophony of wails and snarls as the dragons clashed, wings flapping and teeth bared. While the typhoomerang was large and undoubtedly stronger, the demi was smaller and quicker to evade her enemies attacks. With each slice of its wings, the dragon-girl dodged and laid her own parry of blows - clawing and biting - upon her opponent.

The fight dragged, both species slowly becoming more tired, their guard lowering. The typhoomerang had multiple puncture wounds in its broad wings and claw marks scratched across it's muzzle. Conversely, the demi's wings were unharmed, but it had several small gashes across it's forearms and chest.

The dragons backed away from each other for a brief moment, searching for any sign of weakness in each other's eyes. The mother dragon growled as if to disguise her fatigue, prepared for another attack. 

With a grunt, the demi flung herself up at it's face, teeth bared and lunging for a weak spot - her eyes. A slightly yellowed canine pierced the cataract with a pop, blood and fluid proceeding to burst from the mutilated eye. She howled, staggering from the weight of her opponent and slowly but surely began to topple of her back. In a last-ditch effort to protect herself, she thrashed her feet in desperation to detach her attacker.

One of her strikes hit home, 3 of her 10" claws making contact with the soft belly of the dragon girl, gutting the muscle that protected her soft internals. The orange drake yelped, the force of the blow knocking her backwards off the typhoomerang. Both dragons weakly struggled to their feet to meet each other's gaze once again.

The typhoomerang was defeated, wings hanging limp, blood beginning to congeal around her wounds and fluid oozing from the ruined eye. Her posture was hunched as she slowly backed away from her quarry.

The dragon-girl was still hissing, eyes glazed refusing to show the pain. She shook a little on her legs but held her stance firm. Blood pooled from her belly - the last attack had dealt severe damage. With a final look the mother began to pump her tattered wings, flying away in an erratic and jumpy pattern till it was out of sight.

Snotlout watched in awe from the trees, absorbing the battle he had just witnessed. The new dragon was incredibly vicious. Yet as he watched it tremble as it's opponent flew away, he began to feel some worry in his heart if the dragon was ok. He had noticed all the blood.

The demi's posture weakened once it's quarry was gone, releasing a groan from her throat and finally allowing her shaking legs to give way as her bulk collapsed weakly to the grass. She laid her great head to the ground and breathed heavily, eyes rolling slightly. If she was not patched up there was great chance she would die.

Snotlout's face grew pensive as he weighed up his options. Leave the dragon of go and fetch help. He quickly dismissed both of these thoughts. He couldn't leave it. Discovering a new species and letting it die, A; wouldn't go down well with the riders, B; would be throwing away a chance of gloating and C; he secretly felt quite bad for the battered creature, let alone he was curious to learn more about it (a rare occurrence in his life without education). And even if he left for help, the dragon could be dead by the time he got back.

"Hookfang please protect me," he whimpered to his nightmare who grumbled, unsure that his plan was a good idea. Snotlout exhaled, flushing away his nerves with determination. He reluctantly parted the bushes and stepped out into the clearing.


	3. Chapter 3

Snotlout stood warily in the clearing, Hookfang's bulk shuffling behind him. The dragon's eyes were dim, yet they fluttered open at the rustling of the bushes, expecting another attacker. Her head slowly raised to the noise, visually tensing at the sight of the young viking and his dragon watching her cautiously. Her expression bore a heavy snarl, pupils going thin and bringing her wings lower to hide her blemishes. 

"Hey, easy there dragon. I don't wanna hurt you," Snotlout spoke, forcing shake out of his voice. He crouched low and held his hand forward slightly. Even with the distance between them the dragon hissed, baring her maw to expose a glowing throat. Her last defence. 

"Whoa whoa!" Snotlout squealed, backing towards Hookfang. "Look see! I won't hurt you. I like dragons!" He turned quickly and patted Hookfang on the snout, who bent his wing forward to shield his rider from the potential attack. 

There was a pause as the fire in the drake's throat died down. She still displayed her teeth, growling subtly under her breath. The whine in the tone gave away her pain. Snotlout's expression softened as he nudged Hookfang to move his wing. 

"Please try and understand me. You're hurt and and I honestly don't need a dead dragon on my conscience. It ruins the image." As he spoke he slowly began to creep forward, arm outstretched. She still seemed hesitant, moving her muzzle back from him slightly. Snotlout sighed.

"You're going to die if you don't let me help. Please, at least let me try?" His hand hovered before the beast, flinching as though she might snap his arm off at any given moment. But she didn't.

At a crawling pace, her nose edged towards his hand. Her eyes held his gaze with a fierce glare, yet they bore no fire. They were calm. Questioning. 

Snotlout held his breath as the cool scales pressed into his hand.

The viking felt a surge of excitement ripple down his arm at the touch. He had got a dragon to trust him - all by himself! The dragon groaned and pulled away, replacing her head on the ground, eyes half closed. The moment was gone and now Snotlout needed to hurry. He beckoned Hookfang over and carefully ran his and down the dragon to her wings, tenderly lifting them up.

It seemed that the drake had tried to lay off the wound, the torn muscle glistening with blood. Snotlout bit his lip. He knew nothing about medicine! And this was going to require more than a bandage to fix unlike the small cut on his shoulder. He began to panic.

"Hookfang what do I do?" He said in a cracked voice. "It's bleeding too much, I don't know how to fix this!" He turned to his dragon hoping he might offer some reassurance, but instead the monstrous turned tail and scuttled off into the trees.

"Hookfang?! I need your help!" But too late, the last of his tail slithered off into the undergrowth. A queer feeling suddenly crawled over his skin, and something hot began to prick at his eyes. It was guilt. Though he hated to admit it he felt horrible. He had sworn he could help the poor creature and now it was going to die. He went and kneeled by her head, soothing his hands over the scales. The dragon dragged her eyes open to watch him but to not wince under the touch. 

"I'm sorry," Snotlout stammered, feeling the tears breach his eyes and patter lightly into his lap. "I don't know how to help you." Snotlout hung his head, thinking he would have to comfort the wounded demi in her final moments.

Yet a rustle in the trees caught his attention as Hookfang returned. Snotlout didn't say anything, turning his head away, part in anger for his dragon leaving him, but mostly in shame for he could not help his best friends kin. 

Hookfang padded over and nudged his face, Snotlout crossly pushing him off. But the the nightmare was persistent until the boy snapped.

"What?!" He spat, pushing his muzzle off again. 

Hookfang suddenly opened his maw, revealing what looked to be a bunch of lumpy black goo, resembling a chewed up form of berries. Snotlout grimaced. 

"And what is that supposed to do?" He scowled. Hookfang sauntered over to the wound, hinting to Snotlout to follow him. He bent down by the flesh, the blood-soaked grass staining his knees. His crossness quickly faded to curiosity. He reluctantly took a smear of the paste and held his hand beside the gash, looking quizzically to Hookfang who motioned for him to continue. 

In a light bulb moment, Snotlout finally seemed to understand. His dragon must have found some natural remedy from the woods! He decided not to baffle over the fact that his dragon somehow knew this, and tenderly began to swear the mixture over the wound. 

He hoped his technique was right as the last of the berry paste was picked from Hookfang's teeth. Plus he had no clue what to look for as a sign the paste was even working. He waited impatiently to see if anything happened. 

Snotlout flitted backward and forward, checking the drake was still alive as he waited for a sign the mix was working. His patience wore thin and he carefully tapped at the goo, only to find it has hardened into some form of shell. Then it hit him.

"It stopped the bleeding," he mumbled, partially astounded. "Hookfang you're a genius!" He danced, punching the air to his dragons amusement. At the draconic smirk Snotlout quickly regained his composure. 

However the demi was clearly still weak, and in no fit state to look after herself. The wound would still need appropriate treatment to stop infection. Snotlout's face clouded over as his mind ticked on the subject of what to do. Gothi seemed the best bet when it came to healing. He decided it was best to bring the demi-dragon to Berk. 

"Hey dragon, you still with me?" he spoke softly as the dragon stirred. Her amber eyes watched him intently, waiting for him to speak.

"Will you allow me to move you? It's a bit of a flight, but it'll be easier to help you heal there." Snotlout watched the demi's actions as she seemed to process his words without faltering her intense gaze. When she made no fuss, Snotlout assumed it was a yes.

"Right," he started. "How are we gonna move you?" His question hung in the air as he stroked his non-existent beard. A sudden memory recollection turned his cheeks crimson as he looked sheepishly at the drake.

"I-er...could you...ok," he sighed. "Listen dragon-person I saw you earlier. Like, I'm honourable but I could hardly turn my eyes away you know?" The demi's eyes widened and she hissed furiously, trying to shuffle away from him.

"Oh no no it's ok! I just, I thought if you could...change it would make moving you easier?" The snap of jaws inches from his fingertips was a definitive answer.

Now with a wary eye on the pissed dragon, he clambered on Hookfang and angled him above the demi, carefully scooping her up around her middle in his claws. She groaned wearily as the supporting hold of the soft dirt vanished from her feet, and she dangled precariously in the monstrous nightmares grasp. Snotlouts brows furrowed worriedly and they began to slowly carry the dragon back to Berk.

It was not a comfortable journey. Hookfang pumped his wings forcefully as he strained to carry the weight of the other dragon, who was not being very co-operative. She seemed to wiggle to try and find a more comfy position, but in the air it was almost useless. Snotlout, try as he might, could not push Hookfang into gaining anymore altitude, and they slowly began to descend, getting incredibly close to the gentle rolls of the ocean waves. At one point the water splashed up onto their haul who jolted in surprise, leading to Hookfang grappling at as much air as he could get as they were slowly dragged upwards.

Just at the point when Snotlout was starting to panic, the speck of Raven Point began to crest on the horizon. Snotlout exhaled a sigh of relief and a cheer. "Come on Hooky, we're almost home!" The exhausted nightmare merely grunted in reply and they began to soar over the blanket of trees. 

"Easy Hookfang!" Snot squealed as the dangling drake was bashed by a tall tree branch, causing her to writhe in discomfort. "Hookfang come on, up!" Snotlout rallied, but it was no use. The last of the dragons fuel had been used up. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as his wingflaps began to decrease, the trio sinking rapidly into the trees. 

"Hookfang!" Snotlout screamed, clinging to his dragons horns. Branches thwacked at them as Snotlout tried in vain to steer the dragon around the trees. He had to land somewhere! His mind whirled rapidly and he scoured the endless stretch of undergrowth for a flat area of land. Finding nothing, he turned back to between Hookfang's horns - his throat went dry and Hookfang emerged out over a rocky ledge and nosedived the sinkhole below. 

The vikings shriek echoed around the cove as he hauled on Hookfang to straighten up, barely managing and he carelessly dumped the demi-dragon roughly on the ground before biting the dust himself and flinging his rider a mile.

Snotlout cartwheeled in the air and landed with a thud right on his back, the blue of the sky slowly spinning and his vision blurred and refocused. He coughed and wheezed as he staggered to his feet, rubbing his sore back wearily. The drained monsterous had crawled to the edge of the lake to sip at it's cool liquid, releasing a puff of black smoke up into the air. Snotlout sighed, relieved to know that his dragon was ok. Then he looked to their passenger who lay sprawled out on the ground, groaning and battered. 

Snotlout rushed over to check for (any more) injuries, grateful to find there was no more that what they had arrived with. He patted her nose gently and reached over to the bank of the lake, removing his helmet and dipping it under the smooth surface as the water swirled into it. He offered up the makeshift bowl to the dragon who cautiously began to lap at the refreshment, gradually gaining confidence and drinking casually till only the dregs remained. The viking flicked out the last few droplets and replaced the helmet back on his head with a smile. The drake watched back with tired eyes. 

At this, Snotlout fell pensive as he tried to form a plan in his head - something a Jorgenson was admittedly not good at. They were doers, not thinkers. Snotlout needed Gothi, but he couldn't get the dragon or himself to Berk, Hookfang being out of energy and whatnot. And even if he could somehow fetch Gothi and bring her to the cove, he doubted the dragon would let her near. With a groan he realised we would have to walk there and back if he wanted to patch up the dragon himself. 

He started towards the narrow path that slithered down into the cove, casting a glance back to the two  dragons. "Look after her Hookfang," he called. Hookfang let loose a low rumble in his throat, crawling over to the resting demi and encircling her. He settled himself comfortably around her form and burned a low flame over his crimson scales to warm his companion who groaned weakly in thanks. With a stern expression, he turned and began to jog up the slope and off into the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

Snotlout maintained a steady stride as he embarked across the soiled terrain, occasionally sliding over a rock or boulder. He daren't go faster and spend his energy, but he couldn't dawdle either. He hopped over a creek trickling down from a sloping hill, finally emerging from the green carpet at the edge of one of Silent Sven's fields. He grinned and headed out across the field, staring up at Gothi's stack with determination. 

He started up the creaking steps with mountain goat agility, leaning at dangerous angles around corners at a surprising speed. His breathing became heavy and ragged as he began to tire, but he refused to stop, although his pace has significantly reduced since the bottom. 

With a final puff of effort, he heaved himself up onto Gothi's platform, pausing to rest his palms on his knees and regain his energy. He pattered cautiously over to the door that was crooked ajar, a grey tinted smoke slinking through the crack and up into the atmosphere. Snotlout inhaled and immediately felt his mouth begin to water, peering around the door.

The wizened healer was doubled over a boiling cauldron - the source of the smell. Snotlout could spy the chunks of yak beef bobbing in the brew and gazed longingly. He hasn't eaten since breakfast, and yak stew was his favourite! But, as his brows knitted into a frown, he knew he had a task to complete. He waited until Gothi waddled over to her pantry to retrieve some spices before slipping inside.

Inside the healers house was a cluttered array of eccentric brews, concoctions, herbs, books, scrolls and totems, giving the little shack a particularly mystical feel. Snotlout observed the bric-a-brac stacks, searching through the various leather spines for a way to help heal his dragon. His sweeping finger paused on it's trail through the film of dust as it landed on a particularly faded album:

101 Ways to Treat Flesh Wounds and Infections.

Snotlout's eyes sparkled as he withdrew the leather-bound book, quickly glancing back to check Gothi was still busy. Thankfully she was still nose-deep into her paprika and ginger. An idea suddenly struck through his thick steel helmet, and with a mischievous grin, he crept over to the door of the small larder and slowly nudged it closed, placing a chair gently under the latch. 

Now confident he wouldn't be disturbed, Snotlout placed the book onto a rickety herb-prep table, flipping quickly through the pages in an attempt to find the correct treatment, quietly muttering to himself as he went. 

"Wraps, staples, limb removal?! Who am I kidding, I can't use any of these! Wraps; the wound is too severe, staples; not big enough and limb removal?! It's not even on a limb!" Snotlout groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. He flipped through a couple more pages, but suddenly he stopped. "Stitches and Dressing," he mumbled the title. 

As his eyes scanned the runes scribbled onto the stained parchment, he chewed on his lip unknowingly. This would be tricky, but it had a chance to work. 

Suddenly there was a shuffling coming from the pantry. Snotlout swivelled, watching as the latch on the door began to twitch. He needed to hurry up or Gothi would come out and beat him senseless with her stick for stealing!

He hurriedly flitted back and forth from the book, reading the labels on various vials and bottles that he would need. He also grabbed a fierce-looking needle and a spool of wiry thread. He stuffed said items inside of a faded brown satchel he found buried under a pile of old stools. Once he was satisfied he had everything he needed, he closed the book and chucked it also in the sack.

The rattling of the pantry door had long gone and was replaced by loud banging - presumably from the staff. Snotlout knew he needed to make a hasty exit now. Gothi's swing rivalled even the best warriors in the village.

Back in the time of Kill or Be Killed, his fifteen year old self vividly recalled the time he saw the old woman down amongst the flames, defending a cart of herbal supplies. One particularly daring terror had tried to snatch a sweet-smelling root from the hoard and was promptly thwacked over the burning houses and out of sight. "That should be a sport," he recalled himself saying. Of course he no longer felt the same now but damn. That terror had flown. Without the need of it's wings of course. And Snotlout certainly didn't want to face the same from the knarled old stick. 

Finally, he eyed up the half filled basket of fish in the corner. It wasn't much but it would have to do. He slung the basket and satchel over his shoulder, peering back at the yak stew longingly.

BANG!! The pantry door flew open with one more bash of the staff. Gothi glared crossly at the missing items, spotting the gaps in the shelves with eagle-like precision. She tutted at the missing fish basket and grumpily turned back to her almost finessed yak stew, ignoring the few splashes that had travelled mysteriously out of the pot. 

Had the old woman's eyesight been what it used to, she might just have noticed the stout viking sneaking out of her hut, bag and basket slung over one shoulder, and a helmet wobbling precariously in his palm, containing the steaming contents of a well prepared yak stew.

******

On his travels back through the forest, Snotlout quickly polished off his stolen lunch, briefly dipping the helmet in the creek he passed to wash it out before placing it back on his head. He was anxious to get back before the poor drake had the chance to suffer any more turmoil than she already had.

As the lip of the cove appeared in sight, he quickened his pace and skipped lightly down the path back to the dragons. 

They seemed to have not moved, Hookfang still curled around his companion, the spools of smoke emanating from his scales suggested that he had been trying to keep her warm. Both looked to Snotlout as he returned, Hookfang sliding off the limp creatures form and watching impatiently. Snotlout settled down his loot and yet again examined the hard black shell that encased the gashes.

"Ok dragon," he said removing some bottles and the book from the satchel. "This is probably going to hurt." He quickly skimmed through to the correct page before finding what he needed, selecting a small jar filled with a milky white substance. "This is called," he paused to read the label. "Milk of the Potty - no scratch that, Milk of the Poppy," he corrected himself. "This is supposed to numb the pain."

He uncorked the jar and offered it to the dragon. "Now I don't know how much you're supposed to have so don't take too much -" He was stopped short when she snatched the bottle and delicately held it in her front jaws, allowing approximately a third if the substance to trickle into her mouth before handing it back to him.

"...Ok?" Snotlout said slightly bewildered. "Seems like you know a bit more about this then me." At this she seemed to grunt in agreement although it evidently pained her.

"Now Hookfang. Do I have to peel this berry stuff off or?" He done a minor hand gesture, unsure of the next step. Hookfang bowed his head, which Snotlout gathered was a yes. "Ok then."

The viking exhaled sharply before he began picking at the edge of the berry shell, little flakes of the blue black film crumbling in his hands. He finally got his fingers under the shell and slowly pulled up, watching as it tugged at the scales it was attached to before giving way in a long strip, minute breaking patterns cracking over the skin shield like that of a dry desert. He repeated this action on each gash before the would lay exposed to him again with a few remnants of the paste clinging to it's borders. Thankfully most of the bleeding had stopped now.

"Now we have to clean it," Snotlout got to his feet and scooped some water from the lake with his helmet, and placing it carefully in front of Hookfang's jaws. "Flames!" He commanded as a jet of dancing orange spewed from the nightmares throat. The fire receded and the smoke cleared, leaving the boiling water contents now clean of most impurities or potential germs. Snotlout fanned it until it was cool enough to touch and use, grasping a clean cloth he had also pilfered and gently wiping away the residue and any grit that had gotten lodged in the exposed flesh.

"Right, now..." he flirted back to the book. "We have to mix up this paste and smear it inside the wound so it doesn't go sep- wait what's that? Sep-tic? I'm guessing that's not good so let's get a move on." Snotlout felt slightly embarassed, talking to himself. He didn't mind it when no one was around but the dragons were here, both watching him. But he daren't stop for it calmed his nerves, and he would need a hand steady as a rock later on.

For the interior salve, Snotlout would require raw honey for the base. The book told him that the amount depended on the size the wound, hence the reason had bought at least three very large (and very heavy) jars   
With him. Stupidly, he hasn't bought anything to mix it in, or any kind of tools to prepare the other ingredients, so he would have to make do with a couple large rocks.

However before he could proceed, the orange drake growled with as much ferocity as she could manage, weakly pointing her tail to the lake. Confused, Snotlout collected the water and watched as she guided him back to Hookfang so he could boil the water again. Finally, she looked to the rocks and Snotlout tipped the boiling water over them. Evidently they had to be clean aswell.

Snotlout roughly gauged out how much honey he would need before looking to the next ingredient; Goldenseal was next. A plant that had a six-pronged leaf with a small white flower at it's centre. Snotlout had followed the books guide and picked seven leaves to bring with him, grinding them up with the stone and mixing it in with the honey. He also had to grind up a chunky section of comfrey root which was (as seen on the pages) the most essential part of the internal healing process. Once the root was in little brown bits it was also added, with finally a sprinkle of cayenne pepper to help the blood clot in the damaged areas.

With the paste - now a slightly sooty colour - Snotlout smeared it gingerly around the inside of the gashes, wincing as the dragon groaned in pain. He gritted his teeth and pursued until he had used up most of the mix on the exposed flesh, leaving only the gaping holes to be stitched up. 

"Now this is where it gets tricky," Snotlout muttered, grasping the spool and needle. He carefully followed the diagram on the parchment that depicted how to properly prepare and stitch up a wound. When his own craft resembled the picture, he carefully stabbed the needle into the scaly stomach approx three millimetres away from the wound as told. But Snotlouts look of determination faded to despair and the needle didn't budge. The scale was too thick!

Snotlouts eyes glazed over as he twitched his fingers. He needed a way around this, the wound wouldn't heal open like this! He looked and the beautifully arranged strips of scale that patterned across her stomach, it's beauty soiled by the ugly gashes.

Snotlout had an idea as he looked at where the scales had been sliced on her belly - they had cut quite cleanly at the talons of the typhoomerang, but at a funny angle. If he could cut away and remove a bit of scale at the site of the wound, the needle stood a chance of piercing her skin!

He withdrew his pocket knife from his belt, and started to trace an area on each segment of the snake-like belly, before cautiously pushing the blade harder to try and get it to pierce the keratin. It stubbornly refused to budge, leaving Snotlout to scratch at it's surface in order to slowly cause a groove. Once this had gone far enough, he gingerly used the exposed side where the gash was and lifted the cut out piece up, causing his patient to hiss and wail. 

"I know, I'm sorry," Snotlout soothed, stroking her stomach. "But there's no other way I can do this." He persevered, chipping off a portion of scale around the surrounding areas at a snail's pace. But there was little he could do to increase the time, if he became too careless he could injure her even more. After nearly an hour of chipping of the hard scales, he had exposed enough of her raw skin to stitch up.

"Lets hope this works," he muttered as he lined up the needle. Snotlout was, in fact, an intellectual when it came to sowing. Having being taught by his mother at a mere six years old, it was one of the few 'low-adrenaline' tasks he could complete with a low risk of failure or suffering from boredom (he actually quite enjoyed it as a secret past-time). When it came to stitching, he had a hand as steady as a rock. However flesh was a very new material for him to work on.

He gingerly brought the needle to the raw skin and pushed on it, breathing a sigh of relief as it sunk down into the flesh. Now it was time for the serious work.

Roughly two hours ticked by, Snotlout carefully forging stitch by stitch into the drakes skin. He lost count of how many he had managed to do, and he still has another few inches left to complete on the final gash. Dusk was approaching, causing the scales of the dragons to glow orange and red in the fading sunlight, long shadows streaking out across the terrain. Snotlout had to strain to see as he rounded off the last coil of thread. With a sigh of relief, he examined his work.

They admittedly could have been tidier, but considering the circumstances Snotlout figured he could cut himself some slack on that part. As a final dressing, he smoothed some more honey around the affected area and layered some comfrey leaves over the top, using the raw substance as a form of glue. The book specifically stated to leave the wound uncovered, and so Snotlout had not brought any bandages with him. The comfrey leaves should protect the fresh sutures while allowing the flesh to 'breathe'. Now with the sun almost sunk in the sky, he realised he needed to get home before suspicions aroused about his whereabouts. 

He had decided he would keep the dragon a secret for now. She had been through a lot, and she didn't seem very trusting of people. He didn't want to stress the sick animal out anymore. "Right then Hookfang, let's make tracks," he said to the nightmare who had promptly started crooning to the orange dragoness and nuzzling her after Snotlout had finished. He looked to his rider almost puzzled, not moving from his new friend's side. 

"Hookfang come on! I can't walk all the way back again! I'll wind up walking into or ditch or something in the dark!" Snotlout tried to argue, and eventually, the reluctant Hookfang gave a forlorn goodbye and lumbered over to his rider. Snotlout sighed, doing one last check before he set off home.

He packed all the healers equipment back into the satchel and stashed it behind a dry rock, and tipped out the fish that he had managed to theive from Gothi in front of the dragons orange muzzle. "For if you get hungry in the night," he spoke softly. And he clambered on Hookfang, he turned back one more time and squinted into the fading light, amber irises staring back at him calmly, almost glowing in the setting sun. "Don't worry, we'll be back tomorrow morning." And with that Hookfang pumped his wings up into the inky black sky and headed home to Berk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First block of four posted :) Please, if you've read this far let me know what you think by leaving a comment!! I'm always looking for constructive criticism or praise :)


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